


Erik

by bicroft



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Fairy Tale Elements, M/M, Shrek AU, which is a tag I never thought I'd have to use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-04-29 16:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5133704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bicroft/pseuds/bicroft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Shrek AU nobody asked for. Erik is a mutant living deep in the woods of Genosha, whose land is suddenly invaded by other displaced mutants. Angry, he approaches Lord Stryker, who says that he will only give Erik his land back if he brings him Prince Charles Xavier, the fairest royal in the land and the heir to the Genoshian throne, who has been kept in a tower since his childhood and hidden from the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. story of my life

* * *

 

_ _

* * *

 

_i._

_I always dreamed I'd get a happy ending  
_ _And this right here? Not how it goes._

 

* * *

There was a distinct difference, Erik knew, between being a mutant and being a monster, but the people of the closest village just didn’t seem to get it. It made no difference to them that, as a child, Erik had grown up there, and had even been friends with some of them well into adolescence, when his powers manifested. The only thing that mattered was that, now, he was a mutant and mutants were (regardless of the fact that many of them weren’t dangerous at all) inherently evil, which is how he ended up where he was.

Erik didn’t necessarily mind the solitude; in fact, he embraced it. He’d made his home far back in the woods, and people rarely came that way unless they were lost or amassing an angry mob to try and kill him again, and both parties rarely made it past the front gate. Today, however, was somehow different, because instead of awakening to the quiet sounds of creaking branches and whistling winds the forest usually made, Erik was listening to what sounded like some kind of rave on his front lawn.

It was still early- or late, he wasn’t sure which; one glance to his window told him that the sun had not even started coming up yet, which didn’t exactly rule out the idea that this could be a midnight mob. He hadn’t had to deal with one of those in a while, as the villagers seemed to like to have their mobs with their suppers, but it was better to be safe than sorry with these things. He sighed and dressed quickly, preparing himself to summon his candlesticks or something to defend himself, but when he opened the door, what he saw definitely wasn’t a mob.

As far as he could see, there were people standing across his yard, chattering and looking fairly disgruntled. All of them were obviously mutants, with skin and scales and fur and wings, or something else that marked them different from the baseline humans that dominated the land. Erik had never seen a crowd of mutants so large in his life, his made him wonder if he’d missed signing up for some kind of convention. “What the hell,” he said quietly, and then louder, with more feeling: “What the _hell_?” Simultaneously, the head of every mutant snapped towards him, and the forest fell silent again.

“Who _are_ you people?” he asked, scanning the crowd for some kind of representative. “And why are you on my lawn?”

“You’re joking, right?” A blue skinned woman stepped forward, arms crossed and looking at Erik like he was insane.

“Absolutely not.” he snapped back. “This is private property- _my_ property.”

“Well, not anymore, apparently.” the woman huffed, gesturing to a man- or, Erik _assumed_ it was a man; they were covered in blue fur and had an absurdly small pair of glasses on- behind her to hand him a long sheet of parchment.   _By the decree of Lord William Stryker,_ it read, _all those possessing mutations- visible and invisible- are hereby exiled to the land beyond the borders of his domain, and are not to return upon pain of death._

Erik had to read it at least three times to believe it. “You’re kidding,” he said at last. “You have _got_ to be kidding.”

“Believe me, we all wish we were.” The woman said, actually sounding contrite this time. She offered him her hand. “I’m Raven. We were all rounded up this morning, forced out here.”

“Had to leave everything behind.” said the blue furred man, adjusting his glasses.  “Hank McCoy, nice to meet you, I guess.”

“Not likewise.” Erik replied, which he was sure was quite unfair of him, but it was the natural reaction to having your home invaded by a bunch of people you don’t know on the order of a man you owed nothing to. “So you’re all—“

“Mutants, yeah.” Raven said. “I’m a shape shifter, Hank’s a genius; we’ve got just about everything under the sun out here. Most of us hadn’t met until this morning, but—“

“When you’re being forced out of your homes and into hostile territory, you bond quickly.” a blond boy cut in. He was flanked by a younger brown haired boy wearing some kind of sunglasses, and a tall dark skinned man who smiled at Erik. “Who’s this?”

“Apparently, the guy that already lives here.” Raven sighed. “Stryker sent us to already occupied land.”

“Land that you will be leaving very, very soon.” Erik said.  The blond boy bristled.

“You can’t just kick us out--” he started, but Erik cut him off.

“I _can,_ actually, seeing as it’s my land.” he said, baring his teeth in something too threatening to be a smile.

“Technically,” Hank said, clearing his throat. “This is unclaimed land, which means it is outside the jurisdiction of the laws of the land and therefore outside any kind of ownership, so _technically,_ it’s nobody’s land—or, everybody’s land, if you’d rather see it that way.”

“I _live here._ ” Erik snarled. “Have lived here for _years_ , and will continue to live here until the day I die, _alone_ , and very, very content in that. Now, if you please _get off my goddamn lawn_!” His voice echoed more than he intended it to, causing more than a few mutants to step back in alarm. Somewhere, a baby started to cry, and Erik realized that his mother would have been very, very ashamed. He couldn’t, however, talk himself down from his anger enough to really care.

No one spoke for a long moment, and the silence of the woods pervaded again. Eventually, though, the dark skinned man cleared his throat. “If we leave,” he said, voice even and calm even as his companion’s hands shook with rage. “We’ll be killed the second we step over the border. We’re just trying to survive, man, like you; we’re all fighting the same war here.”

“I’m not fighting a war,” Erik said through gritted teeth. “I’m just living.”

“No offense,” the blond boy said. “But this isn’t exactly the high life, man.”

“It works just fine for me.” Erik retorted. “I like it quiet.”

“Look, the only way you’re getting us out is we get to go home.” Raven said, obviously over the entire argument. “So, when we find out a way to do that, you’ll get your quiet back.”

“I have a better idea.” Erik bit out, almost before he knew what he was saying. “I’ll go talk to _Lord_ Stryker myself.”

Raven laughed. “Seriously?” she said. “Good luck. You’ll be dead the second he knows you’re one of us.”

“Very hard to execute me if I have him dangling over the balcony on by his belt buckle.” Erik hummed, baring his teeth again. It was closer to a smirk this time, but still dangerously wolflike. His mind was made up now; it would only take a few moments of peril for the bourgeois asshole to give in, he was sure, and he knew the journey to the Stryker’s castle wasn’t all that long from a childhood of going to festivals and marketplaces in the city surrounding it. He pushed back inside for a moment and emerged with a pack on his back, stuffed hurriedly with various articles of clothing and items he was sure he’d later find weren’t relevant to his trip.

“You’re _actually_ serious.” The blond boy whistled, impressed. “I’m getting your house when your body gets shipped back, dude.”

“I don’t even _know_ you.” Erik said, exasperated. “And _no one_ is getting my house; I’ll be back in a few days, you--” he pointed to Raven. “I’m holding you responsible if any of my shit is damaged when I get back.”

Raven shrugged, unaffected by his glare. “Whatever floats you boat.” she said. “We’ll be seeing you in a few days or never again, so it doesn’t really matter to me.”

“Right.” Erik said, and then repeated himself. “Right.” He lingered for a few more moments before he took a deep breath and started wading through the crowd of mutants, who for a reason beyond him started cheering and chanting, as if he were some kind of hero. This only annoyed him further, powers branching and whatever metal was closest to him hum and vibrate.

He was to the edge of the woods when his rage finally subsided, and his shoulders slumped. _What the literal hell,_ he thought, _am I doing?_

* * *

“Hey, Princess, gimmie a date.”

Charles didn’t even look up from his book at the knock on his door, nor for the plate of bland food that was pushed under it.

“Day number eight thousand nine hundred and ninety two.” he replied, turning the page. The man on the other side of the door laughed.

“Your prince dropped by yet?” he asked, and it was Charles’ turn to sigh. It was the same conversation every day.

“Not yet, but he’s coming.” he hummed, and the man laughed again.

“I’m sure it’ll be tomorrow, Chuck.”

“No,” Charles said, as he always did. “I know it’s today.”


	2. don't let me go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> like butter and grits, like kibble and bits, like yin and yang

* * *

_ii. don't let me go_

_you need a pal_

_my calendar's open_

* * *

 

 

It took Erik a full day of travelling to realize he was being followed. He felt the hum of unfamiliar metal as he walked, and occasionally, a breeze too quick to be natural, and finally he’d had enough of it. He reached out, grasping for the metal and pulled the shadow towards him. They gave a squawk of surprise and stumbled, falling to the ground in front of him.

“Easy, man, easy.” The shadow was a young boy, probably no older than sixteen or seventeen, with his hair as silver the buckles on his clothes- that, at least, explained the pull of metal. “Just going for a stroll, nothing to get all super magnet about.”

“You’ve been following me,” Erik growled, ignoring that he’d spoken. “Why?”

“You’re going to see Stryker, right?” the boy asked. “Give him the what for, get everyone’s homes back?”

“I’m going to get _my_ home back,” Erik said. The boy just shrugged.

“Same deal. I wanted to come with, witness history in the making; not every day a mutant stands up to Lord Stryker.”

“And you’re a mutant too, I suppose?” Erik huffed. The boy smiled.

“Pietro Maximoff,” he said. “Thief and speedster, at your service.”

Erik rolled his eyes. “I don’t need or want your service,” he said. “So, you can just---” He paused for a moment, floundering. _Go home_ wasn’t possible, obviously, so he just made a dismissive gesture. “Go.”

“I _am_ going.” Pietro said, grinning. “With you, to see Stryker.”

“No, you’re _not._ ” Erik’s eyebrow was twitching and metal of Pietro’s jacket was humming with his irritation. “I don’t need you to, and I definitely don’t _want_ you to.”

“Looks like you need me to.” Pietro, despite being covered in metal that was threatening to rip itself from his body, was still smiling. “Everyone needs a travel pal.”

“I don’t have _pals._ ” Erik scoffed.

“Which is exactly why you need one.” Pietro chirped. “C’mon, man, you can’t hit the open road alone- there’s, like, bandits and ghosts and stuff.”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Erik replied. “And, aren’t _you_ a bandit?”

“No, no, no- I’m a _thief._ ” Pietro corrected. “Much classier. Right now, though, I’m your chauffer and travel pal. I can get you to Stryker within the day.”

Erik snorted derisively. “It’s two more days walking.” he said, and for some reason, that made Pietro’s grin go devilish.

“Never said we were walking.” He said, pulling the goggles that were resting on his head down over his eyes. He strode over to Erik, putting a hand on the back of his neck, and then on his waist, making Erik stiffen at the contact.

“What are doing?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“I’m holding your neck so you don’t get whiplash.” Pietro hummed. Erik’s brow furrowed.

“What?”

“Whi-p-lash.” Pietro drawled, and Erik didn’t have time to make another snappy remark before they were off, world suddenly moving past them in blurs of color.

In what felt like seconds, they stopped, and Erik had to blink a few times before he registered what had changed. Instead of the woods, they stood in a field, the walls and turrets surrounding the castle of Lord Stryker and the village around it. “How--?” he breathed, turning towards Pietro, who was just grinning.

“Super speed,” he said. “Rad, right?”

“Yeah, sure.” Erik said, still regaining his composure. He put his head in his hands for a moment, breathing deeply. Pietro pat him on the back.

“It’ll pass, man; happens to everyone.” he said, already starting for the walls. “C’mon.”

They walked in silence for a long moment, but it was broken just as Erik was getting used to it. “So, the thing you did earlier,” Pietro drawled. “With your…” He waggled his fingers vaguely. “What was that.”

“Magnetokenetic.” Erik said. “It’s what I do.”

“So you can control metal?” Pietro hummed and nodded. “Huh. My mom knew a guy that could do that.”

They both stopped walking in the same moment. “Oh.” Erik said, quickly followed by Pietro’s “huh.” They were silent for another long moment.

“Maximoff, huh?” Erik said slowly.

“Mom’s name is Magda.” Pietro said, equally as wary. They just stared at each other for what felt like ages before Erik broke away.

“Right,” he breathed. “Right. We can talk about—“

“The fact that you could be my dad?” Pietro offered. Erik groaned, and nodded. He could feel the beginnings of a headaches behind his eyes.

“Yes, that. We’ll talk about that after… this.”

“Works for me.” Pietro shrugged, easy as that, and started walking again. It only took them another ten minutes to get to the main gate, and Erik was surprised to see that there were no guards waiting for them. In fact, there were no guard- no people anywhere on the streets as they walked the town.

“This feels… wrong.” Erik said, brow furrowing.

Pietro snorted. “You think? And here I was thinking that it was _totally normal_ for a big city to turn into a ghost town.”

Erik didn’t reply, only picking up the pace, warily pushing out his powers in search of the metal that would doubtlessly mark the armor of the Lord’s knights. He found nothing in the town, but, there seemed to be a mass of it closer to the castle. His frown only deepened, and he started towards it.

Once he was through the open gates of the castle itself, it was obvious where all the people had gone; they were crowded around the castle balcony, where Stryker stood, addressing them. “People of Genosha,” he cried. “Today, I approach you as a Lord- your Lord, but in the next few days, I will address you as your king!”

Erik froze near the back of the crowd, hearing their murmurs. “After much searching and consultation with my advisors,” Stryker continued. “I have decided that I will be wed to Prince Charles Xavier of Genosha.”

“He’s kidding, right?” Pietro huffed, standing beside Erik. “Prince Charles, that’s the guy in the tower, right? The one with the curse?”

Erik nodded; everyone in Genosha knew the story of their prince. At a young age, a curse was placed upon him, and he was sent away. No one was really sure what the curse _was,_ or how it was discovered, but they knew how it was supposed to be broken: a knight was to save the prince, marry him, and bestow upon him true love’s kiss. It was a load of horseshit, in Erik’s opinion, but in a land like theirs, that wasn’t an opinion worth voicing.

Stryker was still talking. “You all know the story, and so you know of the monster that holds the prince captive.” he said. “And so, I have gathered here the finest knights in the land in a tournament—the winner will go on a quest, and bring home our prince!”

Despite their reservations, the crowd went wild and the sentiment. Erik only rolled his eyes; he didn’t have the time for this. He reached out with both arms, pushing on all the metal in the crowd and parting it. There was a loud gasp and a few screams as he pushed through to the front, and Stryker called _“Mutant! Seize him!”_ It hardly registered with him, though; tossing the knights back was child’s play, with all the metal they were wearing.

“I’m not here for a fight.” he bit out, even though he knew the ring of unconscious or injured guards around him told otherwise. “I’m just here to get my home back. _You_ have decided to drive out all the mutants in your kingdom- which, really, was a poor decision- and put them on my land, and I want them _off_.”

“They’re your people.” Stryker huffed, and the way he was looking down at Erik made his blood boil. “You should be happy, as I see it- your freak brothers and sisters are all in one place.”

Almost before he could register he was doing it, Erik was reaching out again, drawing Stryker down by his ornate belt buckle and dangling him in the air. “You _listen_ ,” he snarled. “You’ll either give me my land back, or you’ll die- it’s a simple choice.”

“Not so simple, mutant.” Stryker’s voice was barely wavering, but Erik could feel his fear. “As of right now, you are in _my_ kingdom, under my rule; if you kill me, you’re a dead man. Besides, if I give you your land back, what good does it do me?”

Erik’s mind raced, biting down on the urge to just drop him and damn the consequences. “You want your prince, don’t you?” he said, finally, dragging Stryker down to his level. “The story says he’s protected by a man made of metal- I can get past him, bring you your beloved, and you give me back my land.”

Stryker studied him for a moment, both of their eyes narrowed. It was obvious that neither trusted the other, but eventually, the lord spoke. “Fine,” he spat. “You bring me the prince, I give you your land.”

”Deal.” Erik said, finally dropping him. The height wasn’t significant, but, the undignified _oof_ Stryker gave upon landing still gave him a sick sense of satisfaction.

“You have a week.” Stryker said, brushing himself off and glowering at Erik. “If you do not make it back in time, your land and your life is forfeit. If you return without the prince, your land and your life is forfeit.”

”A week it is.” Erik said, giving his usual shark-like grin. “I’ll be seeing you, your lordship.” With that, he turned and swept back through the crowd, which parted of its own accord this time. Pietro jogged after him, equal parts distressed and in awe.

”Dude,” he said. “Did you just _threaten_ Lord Stryker and _live_?”

”Looks that way.” Erik said, already out of the palace gates. “It’d probably be best if you went back, now; this is going to get dangerous.”

“Go back, are you kidding?” Pietro huffed. “And miss you rescuing the princess? Never. Besides, it’s gonna be a hellva long walk to the Wolverine’s Keep without me.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. ”To the _what_ keep?”

”Man, someone doesn’t read many fairytales.” Pietro snorted. “The Wolverine, the monster-dude-thing that’s supposed to be keeping the prince captive? Big, decrepit castle thing to the west?”

”I’ve never been to the west.” Erik said, defensive.

”Neither have I,” Pietro shrugged. “But I at least _read._ ”

”Whatever.” Erik huffed. “Just… let’s get a move on. How long’s the trip?”

”Normally?” Pietro hummed, considering it. “About a week, there and back, not including any bandit encounters or weather anomalies or, like, stopping to pee.”

”And, for you?” Erik asked.

”Two days.” Pietro said. “Unless you have to pee, then two days plus a pee break.”

”I don’t.” Erik said, deadpan. “So, let’s get a move on.”

”Sure thing, dad.” Pietro chirped, and Erik cringed.

”Please,” he said. “Don’t call me that.”

Pietro shrugged, taking the same position as he had before. “Whatever suits you, pops.” he said, and they were off again, countryside flying by.

* * *

 

”Hey, princess.” Today, Charles was in the middle of his daily allocated hour of staring at the ceiling and filling himself full of pity and self-loathing. “Gimmie a date?”

”Day eight thousand three hundred and ninety three.” he said, voice entirely devoid of emotion.

”Your prince drop by yet?”

Charles sighed. “As you can very well tell, no.”

Logan laughed, the bastard. “I’m sure he’ll be around tomorrow, then.”

”No,” Charles said, not because he believe it anymore, but because he had to “I know it’s today”


	3. i know it's today / a dream comes true

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there are rules and there are scriptures

* * *

 

_iii. i know it’s today / this is how a dream comes true_

_it won’t be long now, i guarantee_   
_day number...._

_i knew, i knew, i knew,_   
_it would be today!_

* * *

 

_Once upon a time, in the land of Genosha, there was a fair prince- some who were present during his childhood in the royal palace would call him the fairest prince in the land. His name was Charles, and he was a dream in every way; as an infant he never cried, he excelled in all his studies and royal duties, and everyone in Genosha and other kingdoms far and wide adored him. However, it was discovered when he entering his ninth year of age that Prince Charles possessed a terrible curse, one so dangerous that with a heavy heart his mother, Queen Sharon, sent him to be locked away in the Wolverine’s Keep._

_However, it was said that the curse could be broken by the hero that would rescue him and bestow upon him true love’s kiss, and so the prince was left to wait until his love would come and rescue him._

That was Charles’ official fairy tale, the one told to people across the land, though at least half of it was false. He was sure he had to have cried at least once as a baby, and he was absolutely positive that his mother had nothing close to a ‘heavy heart’ when she sent him away. She was disgusted, definitely, but probably too intoxicated to feel much else. Another thing the story got wrong was that Logan- or, the Wolverine, as most accounts preferred to call him, wasn’t a monster of any sort. He was short tempered, maybe, and not likely to let anyone he deemed unworthy get to Charles, who he considered family, but ever since Charles had been dumped at his doorstep as a scared child, he’d been nothing but brashly compassionate.

Charles also knew that he wasn’t cursed; in a land such as Genosha, witchcraft wasn’t uncommon, but there was a much simpler and more permanent explanation as to why he was how he was; he was a mutant, a telepath, and kissing someone- his true love or otherwise- wouldn’t change that.

All that being said, he also understood why he’d been sent away. As a child whose powers had just manifested, he was extremely dangerous- now, even, when he was thirty and in far better control, it still wasn’t safe for him to be around a large number of people; he slipped sometimes, even around Logan, whose mind he was as used to as his own. Even so, he had never stopped harboring the childish hope his ‘prince’ would come; who _didn’t_ want to find their true love and get a big ‘happily ever after’ stamped on their story?

That was why, at the beginning of day number eight thousand three hundred and ninety five, he was staring out the single window of his tower as a flash of silver appeared on the horizon, and then turned into two dots standing at the base of the tower. “Oh my--- _Logan!”_ He shot to his feet immediately, giddy. “Logan, he’s _here!”_

There was a pounding as his keeper ascended the stairs, and then his eyes appeared through the slit in his door. “Who’s what now?”

“My _prince!”_ Charles was practically bouncing now. “He’s _here,_ he’s here, I just saw him!”

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re kidding me.” Logan groaned. “Alright, alright, I’ll check his credentials and just---”

“What? No, no, Logan, we have to abide by the laws of the story.” Charles wrinkled his nose. Just letting the prince up would be a whole lot simpler, but according to the laws of the land, a fairy tale worked just the same as a prophecy; things had to play out a certain way, or the entire thing was void, and he _definitely_ didn’t want to spend another two and a half decades in a tower on a technicality.

“You are _kidding_ me.” Logan huffed. “Chuck, I love you, but there ain’t a way in hell I’m letting some nance in tights stab me so you can get some nookie.”

“It’s the _law_ , Logan.” Charles sighed. “It’ll only hurt a little, and maybe he’s one of those new-age trick the villain types and he won’t stab you at all. All you have to do is pretend to be tricked, and it counts.”

Logan snorted derisively. “Kid, you’ve obviously never been stabbed. But, if that’s how this is gonna have to go down, fine.”

“Wonderful!” Charles chirped. “Alright, so you go down, do your intimidating villain thing, and just hold him off long enough for me to get everything ready.”

“What is there to get ready?” Logan huffed. “All you’ve gotta do is stand there, say ‘here I am’, and let the dude sweep you out the window onto his horse or whatever.”

“I don’t think he has a horse, actually.” Charles hummed. It was an odd thing for a prince not to have, but he’d spent so long in the tower that he’d take pretty much any out at this point; anything that would let him finally experience the world he’d spent so long reading about would be just fine with him, horse or none. “That isn’t the point, though. I have twenty-three years of planning for this and I will be damned if it all goes to waste because my breath smells like something crawled into my mouth and died.”

“Whatever.” Logan grumbled, but Charles could feel the fondness in his mind. “Just-- don’t forget to bring your shit with you, okay? You don’t wanna get two days out to wherever the hell and start hearing everyone’s voices in your head.”

Charles sighed, slumping a bit. In his excitement, he’d almost forgotten; he hadn’t yet had a chance to take it that morning, but on the lone dresser in his room sat a vial and a needle. The vial was full of a golden liquid: the serum that suppressed his powers, effectively making him entirely human for so long as it was still in his system. He’d been taking it almost every day since his tenth birthday and it had started to become an afterthought just as much as a morning ritual; he dressed, combed his hair, brushed his teeth, felt a tingle of emotion or half a thought from Logan and went _oh_ before shooting up.

_Maybe,_ Charles thought, taking the vial from his dresser and turning it over in his hands. I won’t have to, soon. Mutants weren’t often celebrated, it was true, and life for them was harder than it was for most in many parts of the kingdom, but for all he knew, his prince wouldn’t mind. _Maybe,_ he thought again, more hopeful. _He’ll_ _like the idea of marrying someone who can read his mind._ That made him smile until his mind came to the flip side.

_Maybe he won’t want to marry someone who could_ control _his mind. Maybe he’ll just send me back._

He paused for only a few more seconds, hand hovering over the needle, before he set his jaw in a line and shook his head. He would try it, today, without the serum and see where it got him. If all else failed, he could take it tomorrow.

With that settled, he set about the rest of his daily routine, finding his nicest clothes out of the few he owned that weren’t riddled with patches and holes from years of wear and settling on the bed, closing his eyes and settling his hand on his stomach to feign slumber. _Today. It’s today, I_ knew _it was going to be today…_

* * *

 

“Haven’t seen any badgers yet.” Pietro hummed as they walked through the ruins of the castle towards the single turret that was not in disrepair. Erik assumed that was where the prince was purely because of how it looked and because of the absurd fairy tale laws dictating their land.

“ _The_ Wolverine, not a wolverine.” he said through gritted teeth, though it was mostly through concentration than annoyance. He was feeling for metal in the area, but it seemed to be littered with it, so it was hard to pick out any particular signature.

“Does anyone really know, though?” Pietro asked, quirking an eyebrow. “I mean only, like, three people have ever fought him and lived, and most of them either disappeared or died after. All we know is that, a, he’s metal, and b, he’ll probably rip out guts out for trying to rescue the prince.”

Erik snorted. “If he _is_ made of metal, I’ll rip his guts out before he can get to ours, whatever he is.”

Pietro was about to retort, probably in disbelief, when there was a laugh from above them. “I’d like to see you try, bub, honestly.” a low voice said, and almost before Erik could register it a man leapt down from one of the ruined wall, landing in front of them. As he straightened to his full height, it was obvious he was taller than Erik and far more muscular, but the metal bender could feel the hum of something metallic beneath his skin- the Wolverine, then, really was a man made of metal.

“You here for Chuck?” he asked, and then wrinkled his nose and sighed. “I mean-- you’re here for the prince?”

“I am.” Erik said, stepping forward and curling his hands into fists and slowly uncurling them, letting his powers flare. “And I suppose I’m going to have to fight you for him?”

“Honestly, I’d rather you didn’t,” the Wolverine huffed, rolling his shoulders. “But, rules are rules, apparently, and I’m not supposed to let you through without a fight.” There was a noise somewhere between the slide of a sword from its sheath and the sick slide of something exiting flesh and, suddenly, there were sharp metal claws protruding from the spaces between his knuckles. It explained the nickname, if nothing else, Erik mused.

“Indeed.” he said. “Not going to be a fair fight, I’ll warn you.”

“You two unarmed bozos against me?” The Wolverine laughed again. “Yeah, I know.”

“Never said I was unarmed.” Erik huffed. The shark-like grin was back in full force, and he stuck out his hand. There was a split second expression of bemusement on the Wolverine’s face before he reacted, body convulsing and lifting into the air as Erik’s hand dragged him up.

“The hell kind’a prince are you?” he gritted out, and Erik’s grin grew wider.

“Never said I was one of those, either.” he said. With a flick of his wrist, he threw the larger man into one of the crumbling walls. He let out a cry as he hit it and it crumbled with the force of the impact, and Erik let him drop as the wall fell on top of him.

“Holy shit!” Pietro squeaked as the dust clear. “Holy-- you just straight up murdered the Wolverine!” He once again seemed like he was somewhere between awe and terror.

“His bones are covered in metal,” Erik said, already walking away. “I doubt I killed him; I probably just slowed him down, which is all we need- come on.” At the command, Pietro scuttled to catch up, occasionally glancing back at the pile of rubble that was covering the Wolverine and mouthing _shit_ to himself every time he did.

They made it to the base of the tower after only a few more minutes of walking. Erik had to crane his neck and squint to see to the top, where a dot he assumed marked the tower’s single window showed where they’d find the prince. “Right,” he said, reaching out and twisting the rusted lock on the wooden door. “Can you get me to the top?”

“I _could,”_ Pietro said. “But, narrow stairs, long shot- I could also run us into a wall at a hundreds of miles per hour, so, I’d say you’d better take these on your own.”

“Of course.” Erik huffed, rolling his eyes and not bothering to complain further. He pushed the door open, and started up the stairs.

* * *

 

Charles could feel the presence of someone getting closer, projecting irritation and exhaustion. The exhaustion he could understand; there were far too many stairs leading up to his room. The irritation he couldn’t make sense of without delving deeper into his mind, and he wouldn’t risk being detected and thought a threat, so he just decided to chalk it up to the battle with Logan. He hadn’t risen from the bed to watch, figuring that it was better he not know; he could at least be secure in knowing that, whatever had occurred, Logan would heal and survive. _Maybe,_ he mused, _I’ll even send him an invitation to the wedding, when this charade can be given up._ With a husband, he could return to the throne of Genosha and claim his place as ruler, maybe reinstate the knighthood the man had lost long ago.

He could now hear the approaching footsteps, and his heart beat faster in anticipation, almost stopping entirely when he hear the lock on click open and his door open for almost the first time in two decades. He didn’t dare to move or open his eyes as the footsteps, now gentle, came to the edge of his bed, and his breath caught in his throat. _He’s going to kiss me,_ he thought for a brief moment when he could feel the warmth of someone’s breath on his face, but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, a hand reached for his shoulder and the man shook him, gently at first, and then rougher.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was lightly accented and foreign- not originally from near Genosha, then, but he must have been there for awhile for it to fade. “Wake up, your majesty.” Charles’ brow furrowed at the distaste behind the title. It didn't sound anywhere close to reverent, not even mockingly so, and surely sounded nothing like the voice of a prince. Then again, he hadn't heard anyone other than Logan speaking in more than two decades, so, it could just be that.

Slowly, Charles blinked his eyes open, only to have the breath knocked out of him again by the sight of the person looming over him. If the fairy tales got anything right, it was the handsome part- the man standing before him now was gorgeous, even though his entire face was locked in a deep frown Charles could tell was its resting position. “Good morning,” he finally breathed out after a moment, and then, embarrassingly: “Wow.”

The man- his prince, knight, whatever- blinked, and his expression flickered from annoyed to amused, but only for a moment. “Get up.” he said, backing away from the bed. “I imagine you want to get out of here as soon as possible, and I don’t really have time to wait around.”

Charles frowned for a moment- alright, so maybe the Prince Charming stereotype couldn’t be applied here, but, the man had also just fought a centuries old mutant and had to climb almost a thousand stairs, so he could imagine where the short temperedness came in. “Of course,” he said, hopping up off the bed. “I don’t really have anything to pack, so we can just--”

“Lovely,” the man drawled, already starting back towards the door. “Let’s get a move on, then.”

“Pardon me for saying so, but shouldn’t I know your name?” Charles cut in, frown now more confused than anything.

The man made a frustrated noise. “Erik,” he said. “Do you want to get out of this tower or not?”

“I would _like,”_ Charles said, now frustrated himself. “To know _what the hell is going on_!”

“I don’t have time for this.” Erik growled, moving back towards Charles and, in one movement that almost impressed him, threw him over his shoulder.

“Put me _down!”_ Charles cried- or, more accurately, squeaked, trying to no avail to wriggle from Erik’s grasp. “This isn’t how this is supposed to work.”

“I’m not known for playing by the rules.” Erik huffed, starting down the stairs and taking them two at a time. It made the ride somewhat bumpier for Charles, but despite that and the bizarreness of whole thing, it was not lost on him that he was- _finally-_ on his way to his freedom.

The first ray of unfiltered sunlight he’d seen in twenty three years blinded him for a full half minute before he blinked it from his eyes. He looked at the world around him- the same castle ruins he could see from how tower, closer now than they’d been since he’d first been put up there. He was in awe as Erik set him down, turning in a circle to take it all in. “Oh my god,” he breathed, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Oh my _god!_ I’m actually--” He cut himself off with an almost hysterical laugh, jumping into the air. _“Finally!”_

“Dude,” he heard an unfamiliar voice say in a stage whisper, and he whirled around to see a silver haired boy standing next to Erik. “Is that the prince?”

“Yes.” Erik said simply, looking at Charles with some mix of confusion and the same amusement as earlier. Charles thought it looked closer to affection this time, but that could have been him projecting.

“He seems a little--” the boy twirled his finger around his head in the universal sign for ‘absolutely off his rocker’, but Charles couldn’t even bother being annoyed right now.

“Who’s this, then?” he asked, grinning. “Your page, perhaps?”

“Page?” the boy spluttered.

“No.” Erik said, looking slightly irritated. “He’s just--” He waved his hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. Come on, it’s a long walk.”

Charles’ brow furrowed. “Walk?” he asked. “Don’t you have a horse; I saw you come in on something.”

“You were sleeping, how could you have--” Erik cut himself off, making a frustrated noise. “Whatever, it _doesn’t matter._ No, there’s no horse, and yes, you’re going to have to get off your royal ass and walk- problem?”

“You’re quite rude, for a prince.” Charles huffed.

“I’m no prince.” Erik snorted in reply. In the second it took Charles to process, he snapped “come on, Pietro”, turned on his heels, and started walking.

“Wait, _what?”_ Charles jogged to catch up, shell shocked. “What do you _mean_ you’re not a prince- you have to be a prince, or a knight, or a lord or _something-_ that’s how these things work!”

“I mean, I’m not a prince.” Erik repeated, not looking his way. “Or a lord, or a knight, or _anything-_ I’m just a guy who made a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” Charles asked. “Is there ransom involved, because really, there’s no one who’s going to be wanting me back; you won’t get a penny from the crown of Genosha unless I’m married- _to a noble,_ which, you are not, so, there.” He ended his speech with a self-statisfied smirk that faded after only a second. It Erik wasn’t a noble of some kind, and was just a criminal, the story was void. _Another twenty three years in the tower for me._

“I’m _bringing_ you to your noble, calm down.” Erik spat. “Lord Stryker; I bring you to him, I get my home back, simple as that.”

Charles was silent for a long moment, considering. The story didn’t specify that his true love had to come and get him himself, really, only that he would save him, and technically, if he was married, he was being saved. And, it had been Stryker who had sent Erik, so that had to count for something. “Alright.” he said finally. “Take me to him, then.”

Erik rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m not walking back to Genosha for fun.” he drawled. Charles heart leapt. _Genosha-_ he’d be going _home._ “Pietro, how long?”

“Two and a half days.” the silver haired boy answered. “Since we have to do it the slow way with his majesty in our party. Could be longer if you factor in, you know---”

“Bandits and bathroom breaks, yes.” Erik huffed. “We’ll make it in two and a half; the sooner this is over, the better.”

Charles wasn’t paying them any mind anymore. After two decades, all it would take was two days for him to finally be home.

_See, Logan,_ he thought back to his keeper, who was doubtlessly pulling himself from whatever mess he’d gotten into now. _I told you it’d be today._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad all of you like this so far; I legitimately thought no one would want to read it. The chapters are probably going to be getting a little longer from here on out, but I do have them blocked, and we will reach our nine soon! If you'd like to reblog or share it, this fic is being crossposted on my tumblr, maxneato, at maxneato.tumblr.com/tagged/shrek au


	4. i think i got you beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> twenty years i sat and waited, i'm very dedicated  
> on the walls the days were added  
> luckily those walls were padded

 

* * *

 

_iv. i think i got you beat_

_prince of lonely_   
_walking circles_   
_i had only…_

* * *

 

 

After the first six hours of walking, Erik had learned quite a few things about Charles. First, was that he had seemingly boundless energy, keeping up with them quite admirably and even leaping ahead when he saw something he deemed “interesting.” Second was that he deemed almost _everything_ interesting; he stopped for flowers and trees and road signs and, once, a slightly discolored rock. Third was that he _never shut up._ (And the fourth, was that he found much of this somewhat endearing, though he'd only ever admit it under extreme duress.) 

 

“This is _brilliant_!” he exclaimed for the umpteenth time, this time, from up in a tree. How he’d gotten up there, Erik had no clue, which only made it more irritating. “I can see for _at least_ half a mile from here.”

 

“Get _down_ , for god’s sake.” Erik growled, and Charles slid down a few moments later, not even looking remotely sorry. “We don’t have time for this.”

 

“I have all the time in the world.” Charles said primly, smiling. “And I think I’ve earned it, too.”

 

Erik rolled his eyes. “Earned it, yes, by sitting in a cushy tower and waiting to be saved- what a _hardship_ , honestly, I don’t know how you handled it.”

 

Finally, Charles’ smile dropped, but this didn’t cow him either. If anything, he looked angry, and Erik really, really hated himself for what that did to his stomach. He really couldn’t afford to develop a crush on the royal he was delivering into the clutches of evil, but, it was just his luck that it was happening anyway. “ _Cushy_?” he huffed. “You must be joking.”

 

“I’m not, though.” Erik hummed, not bothering to stop walking and making Charles jog to catch up to him.

 

“I spent _two decades of my life_ trapped in a tower, pretty much _alone_ , and you think it was cushy!” Charles was fuming now. “You have absolutely no idea what I--”

 

“What you went through?” Erik snorted. “While you were being taken care of, some of us were fighting to the right to _live_ \- you’ve missed twenty years of history, you have no idea what’s been happening.”  
  


Charles’ brow furrowed. “Is there a war on?” he asked.

 

“Of sorts.” Erik said. “It’s not much of a war when people are just being killed and pushed from their homes without a chance of fighting back, but--”

 

“People are _what_?” Charles was aghast  now. “How, why?”

 

“We’re mutants.” Erik said, shrugging. “It’s our lot.”

 

Charles stopped walking altogether. “ _Our_ lot.” he repeated. “You’re--”

 

Erik stopped too, biting down on a mix of trepidation and thinly veiled anger. He should have figured this would be how it worked. “A mutant.” he finished for him. “Problem, your majesty?”

 

“No!” Charles said, almost too quickly. “God, no. That’s-- _brilliant_ , that’s amazing!”

 

Erik blinked. Brilliant- that was definitely a new reaction. “Pardon?”

 

“What can you do?” Charles asked, beside him again now.

 

“I-- I’m magnetokenetic?” Erik said as if it were a question, still taken aback by the awe on Charles’ face. “I can…” He gave up trying to explain it, reaching out instead. Ahead of them, Pietro yelped as he was drawn up into the air and backwards.

 

“Not cool!” he squawked. “ _Totally_ not cool.”

 

Erik couldn’t help but laugh as he set him down again, and Charles laughed with him, looking like a child who’d just been given the birthday gift they’d been asking for for years. “ _Brilliant_.” he repeated. “Erik, you’re a marvel.”

 

“You’re the first human who’s ever had that specific reaction, I have to say.” he huffed. Charles’ smile momentarily wavered, but it was back soon enough.

 

“Then more humans should be like me, I suppose.” he said. They were silent for a few more moments as they walked before Charles spoke again.

 

“You know my story,” he said. “Or, I’m assuming you do.”

 

“I do,” Erik said, nodding. “Or, the sum of it. I wasn’t big on fairy tales, growing up.”

 

“Right,” Charles sighed. “All the better; I don’t really like the whole idea of it, but, laws are laws and all that. There’s not a royal child without a story to follow, however tedious they may be.”

 

“I wanted to ask about yours, though.” he went on, words rushing out. Erik laughed.

 

“I’m not a noble, I told you.” he said. “I don’t have a story.”

 

“Not an official one, maybe.” Charles persisted. “But, you’ve lived, and anyone who’s alive had a story.”

 

Erik paused for a long moment. “If I do, it’s not a particularly nice one.” he hedged. “You wouldn’t want to hear it.”  
  
“Try me.” Charles hummed, smiling up at him. It was a damn good thing that they only had a day and a half more together, because if Erik had to be constantly exposed to that smile, he’d be in worse trouble than he was now.

 

“I was nine when my powers manifested,” he began. “It was just little things, then; I could move a scrap of metal, undo some buttons. There wasn’t much else special about me; my family was one of the poorer ones in an already poor village, and it wasn’t often we even had metal in the house, and I… well. I wanted something to show off.

 

“The other kids thought it was fun, at first, like magic. My mother didn’t want me showing them, but, I was a kid, so, obviously--”

 

“You did it anyway.” Charles was still smiling, and it made Erik relax a bit.   
  


“Yes. It got around, eventually,that I was some kind of magician, which was a lot better than the truth.”

 

“That you were a mutant.” Charles huffed. Erik nodded.

 

“It attracted the attention of the lord closest to our village- a man named Shaw, who was obsessed with magic. He came looking for me, wanted me to become his squire, but his reputation was too infamous for my mother to consider letting me go. He wanted magic, and if someone stood in his way, they died.” Erik paused here, steeling himself. “My mother… well. She stood in his way.”

 

Charles’ eyes went wide. “He killed her.”

 

Erik nodded, breathing deeply before continuing. “He set a fire, said that if I could use my ‘magic’ to save her, he’d spare her. Obviously, I couldn’t.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Charles’ voice was quiet, and though the apology was genuine, it was obvious he wasn’t pitying him. Erik could almost feel his emotions in his gaze, brushing against the back of his own; it was like Charles was in his head with him, feeling his emotions and understanding. The thought was absurd- Charles was human; there was no way he could be in his mind like that- but, it was comforting all the same.

 

“It was a long time ago.” he said, though he thought _thank you_. He could have sworn he heard an amused _you’re welcome, Erik_ in reply, but, he had to just have been fooling himself. “Anyway, Shaw left after than, convinced I was faking, but I didn’t let it go, obviously. I left the village, tracked him down back at his castle, and killed him with his own sword. Obviously, that won me no favors with the people of the village.”

 

“They drove you out?” Charles asked, frowning. Erik nodded again.

 

“With flourish. I was thirteen, I think.” he said. “I left, made my own home, lived there ever since.”

 

Charles’ brow furrowed. “Alone?” Erik gave another nod.

 

“I like it.”

 

“Whether you like the lonesome or not, it’s still lonesome.” Charles said. “You said that Stryker-- Lord Stryker, he took your home from you.”

 

“He took the quiet, at least. He exiled the rest of the mutants in his kingdom to the forest.” Erik said.

 

“So, you went to Stryker trying to get their homes back?” Charles smiled. “How noble of you.”

 

Erik’s jaw twitched. “I went for me,” he admitted, because he couldn’t bring himself to lie so Charles would think him a better man than he was. “But, them getting their homes back insures I get mine as well.”

 

“I’ll make sure of it.” Charles said, jaw set defiantly. “If Stryker wants my hand, he’ll give them back their land.”

 

“Setting your own dowry.” Erik snorted. “Didn’t think you’d want to disagree with your prince.”

 

“I…” Charles started, but he cut himself off, looking abashedly down at the ground. Erik felt the warm presence in the back of his mind fade, and his brow furrowed. “He may be my future husband,” Charles finally said. “But, I don’t have to agree with how he treats his people- if anything, I should seek to change it, as the man who’s going to be leading them soon enough.”

 

“Of course.” Erik said. It was easy to forget Charles was set to rule a whole country, with his boyish ways and the joy he took in everything. “Very noble of you.”

 

“I’ve twenty years to make up for.” Charles said, and suddenly, nothing about him looked boyish at all. He looked his age in his posture and older in his eyes, and Erik could almost hear the heavy sigh he was holding back. He reached out and breathed in, trying to find something comforting to say, but the moment was broken before he could.

 

“Hey, guys?” Pietro called, turning back to face them. “If you’re doing having a heart-to-heart, the sun’s going down. We should probably find a place to rest for the night.”

 

“He’s right.” Charles murmured, and Erik nodded. They walked in silence for awhile longer, Erik still struggling for words, until they found a flat enough clearing.

 

Almost as soon as they’d found it and lit a fire, Pietro laid down and fell asleep, but neither Erik or Charles seemed able to do the same. They both laid on the ground, staring at the sky in silence, before Erik finally found his words.

 

“What happened to you wasn’t your fault.” he said quietly, but he could feel the weight of his words, and he was sure Charles could too. “You were a child. But, you can change the rules that made you now; you can be better than them, Charles- better than the rules that made you, and better that the man that you’re going to rule by. Don’t let Stryker lead you.”

 

“I won’t, my friend.” Charles whispered back. “He may soon be a king, but so will I; I’ve had two decades to think of changes to make, and they will be made.”

 

They were silent for a long time again before Erik sighed. “Right,” he said, sitting up. “We should  be sleeping.” He shed his coat, and quickly tossed it over Charles. “Closest thing to a blanket I’ve got.”

 

Erik couldn’t see Charles face in the darkness, but he had the impression he was surprised. “Erik, I can’t--”

 

“Goodnight, Charles.” Erik said, laying back down and turning away from him. He was trying not to think of why this man elicited such affection from him where others like him would drive him mad.

 

(He knew why, in his heart, but to think that Charles’ passion had triggered a different kind of his own was a dangerous thought, so he didn’t think it.)

 

There was another dip of silence, before Charles spoke. “Good night, Erik.” he said. Erik could hear his smile.

 

He was going to _die_ because of that smile.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got chapters five and six already completed, so I'll be trying to put out one of those each day as I finish our last few chapters. Thank you all for the support so far. <3


	5. morning person / make a move / when words fail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this morning i'm okay

 

* * *

v. morning person / make a move / when words fail

yesterday i was a monster

*

he’s waiting on a move to be made

* * *

 

Charles woke up warm and happy, for the first time in what felt like forever.

He’d drawn Erik’s coat over him and it was a comforting weight as he cracked his eyes open to the rising sun; he could feel traces of affection in his own mind, and had felt them from Erik, too, when he’d given it to him. It was at the same time exhilarating and disappointing; here he was, falling in love, when in a day he’d have to get married to a man he didn’t know half as well as he knew Erik.

Without the serum in his veins, he’d had more glimpses into Erik’s mind than he’d ever known; he’d seen the memories of his childhood as he’d described him, felt his fear and his joy and his anger- it was intoxicating. Erik’s mind was like a painting he could step into, brighter than the glimpses of Logan’s he’d gotten, or the voices he’d heard as a child. He’d spent most of the day before in his head, skirting around the edges and taking in as much as he could.

The warmth and happiness kept with him as Erik and Pietro stirred and woke. He tried his best to push a curl of happiness towards the latter and Erik smiled, making his heart leap. He could feel the reciprocating emotion, and his own was tinged with guilt. He had no way of knowing whether or not the emotion was genuine or triggered by his own push, so he withdrew. He couldn’t keep doing this. Not only was it infringing on the sanctity of Erik’s mind- something that, no matter how much he’d like to, Charles couldn’t bring himself to infringe upon- but the closer he got to Stryker’s domain, the more dangerous it became. If the man was as anti-mutant as Erik said, he was not likely to accept Charles, especially if he knew how far his power’s extended. He’d have to start taking the serum again, sooner rather than later. It was the only way to keep himself in a position where he could help Erik and his people.

His mood fell, and he began to scrounge around in his pockets for the vial. He had enough of the serum to last him awhile longer, and when it was gone, he could find a way to send for more; there was a doctor, he knew, that gave it to Logan- he’d just have to get word in about a change of address. When he felt for the vial, though, it wasn’t there. He checked again, and once more, his eyes growing steadily wider- the vial wasn’t there.

“Is everything alright, Charles?” Erik’s voice snapped him from his panic. Charles eye’s snapped to him; his brow was furrowed in concern, and he was kneeling beside him again. “I can practically feel you panicking.”

Charles could feel the color draining from his face; he was projecting his emotions, making Erik feel them with him. “I’m fine, Erik, just fine.” he said unconvincingly. “I just… It’s my first time waking up somewhere new. I was a little disoriented, is all.”

Erik, probably since he had eyes, and maybe because Charles had no idea how to keep himself from projecting, didn’t look like he believed him, but he let it drop anyway. “Let’s keep moving.” he suggested, standing and offering Charles a hand up. “You’ll get used to it.”

Charles gave a weak smile and took his hand. He offered him back his jacket, but Erik shook his head. “Keep it,” he said. “For now.” He turned and started walking, leaving Charles to stare at his back for a few moments in something close to wonder before catching up. He held the jacket in his arms for a while, keeping it close to his chest like it was precious to him, but after a few hours it came to be draped over his shoulders. It was far too big for him to wear, and the dark leather was too hot during the day, but, it didn’t move from his shoulders again until they stopped to rest for the night.

* * *

 

“So,” Pietro said once they’d stopped again for the night. He flopped down beside Erik, who was tending to the fire, nudging his shoulder. “How about that prince, huh?”

“What about him?” Erik hummed, already not liking where this conversation was going.

“He’s pretty cool, right?” Pietro prodded, waggling his eyebrows. “And _hot_ , and nice, and--”

“If you like him so much, why don’t you go try and steal him away?” Erik bit out, stabbing at the fire maybe a bit harder than necessary. The stick he was using snapped.

“Not my type,” Pietro said, shrugging. “But, I bet he’s yours- am I right?”

Erik didn’t answer; it was a loaded question. Yes, he thought Charles as attractive, and yes, he was enamored with his joy and the way he always seemed to see the good in what was around them, but admitted aloud that he was interested would only seal the disappointment he’d feel when they had to part. “He’s nice.” he said instead, avoiding the admission.

“You _like_ him.” Pietro said, drawing out the vowel and nudging him again. “Come on, you can tell me- that’s what family’s for, right?”

“You’re--” Erik started to protest, but he stopped himself, and sighed instead. “Maybe, yes; are you happy now?”

“You should tell him.” Pietro said. Erik looked at him as if he’d grown an extra head.

“He’s getting married in a few days.” he said. “What’s the point?”

“He doesn't _love_ him, though.” Pietro interjected. “And, he liked you, too-- has the exact same heart eyes you get when he’s not looking. I mean, seriously, he’s wearing that jacket like it was a handkerchief you handed him before he went off to war.” He nodded to where Charles was behind them, examining a patch of wildflowers, and sure enough, Erik’s jacket was still around his shoulders.

“I’m not a damsel, first off.” Erik huffed, but that was his only protest. He’d seen the way Charles had looked at him when he’d first opened his eyes and saw him; he’d looked like he was seeing something divine, and though Erik knew he was nothing near it, the look had left him with a warm but hollow feeling in his chest.

“No one here is a damsel.” Pietro snorted, standing. “But, dude, you may wanna pull some Prince Charming stuff in the next few hours- you’re on the clock. Tell him, so you don’t end up regretting it.” Erik didn’t look at him as he walked away, surprised in the wisdom and pondering what to do.

* * *

 

“Hey, your majesty.”

Charles head snapped up when Pietro spoke. “Pietro,” he said, smiling. “How can I help you?”

“More like how can _I_ help _you_ ,” the boy said, flopping down beside him. “You and Erik, right?”

Charles froze, eye widening briefly. “What about Erik and I?” he asked slowly.

“You like him.” Pietro was blunt, and more astute than Charles maybe gave him credit for. “And you’ve still got a day before you’ve gotta meet the human embodiment of garbage, so, why don’t you get on that?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.” Charles sighed, turning his gaze back to the ground. “I’m supposed to be getting married, and--”

“ _And_ royals keep consorts and stuff all the time.” Pietro cut in. “It ain’t like Erik couldn’t keep with you like that, or you would knight him or something, if you talked about it. You could make it work.”

Charles hadn’t considered the option, and he gaped for a moment, fishlike. “You’re right.” he finally conceded, a little excited. “I would talk to him, tell him---” He cut himself off, then. If he and Erik were to get together in any long term capacity, romantically or not, Charles couldn’t find a way to justify keeping his powers a secret from him; Stryker, maybe, but Erik was a mutant, too. He still wasn’t sure how or if he should broach the subject. Just saying “hey, Erik, I can read your mind and maybe accidentally manipulate what you’re thinking, here’s to hoping you don’t value your privacy that much” didn’t seem like the way to go. He slumped, and sighed.

“There’s more to it.” he said. Pietro made a frustrated noise.

“You two, _god._ ” he said, scrubbing a hand across his face. “All I wanna do is stop the puppy dog eyes and the pining, but _there’s something more_ \-- what more is there?”

Charles paused for a long while. Pietro, too, was a mutant; he knew that, and he was obviously trying to help. _Maybe_ , he thought. _It’s time I shared a bit more._

“I’m not…” he began, and then paused. “It’s a long story- my story, not the dressed up one they tell kids at night.”

“I’m listening.” Pietro said.

Charles took a deep breath, and began again. “When I was nine, I started hearing voices…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This didn't come when I meant it to BUT it's here now!


	6. when words fail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> do i have a snowballs chance, are my prospects just too grim?   
> i've spent my life stuck in the mud  
> now i'm going out on a limb...

* * *

_vi. when words fail_

_he knows me like nobody else has_

* * *

 

After Pietro had left him, Erik had stood, taking a walk through the woods to clear his head. He’d settled, after a while, and come to terms with one awful, undeniable fact: he was quite probably falling in love with Charles Xavier. He hadn’t really ever been in love before- there had been something, with Magda, but nothing like this, nothing like the burst of blinding affection he felt when he recalled the way Charles had looked at him upon waking up, or the similar feeling he’d gotten when he saw him running from one new thing to the next, or the proprietary feeling that had settled in his gut with his jacket curled around the prince’s shoulders. He tried his best to ignore that one; he couldn’t keep Charles, really- not that he couldn’t have him at all, but, Charles was definitely a thing of the wild, and he knew better than to try and keep that to himself.

He was almost resigned to loving Charles, facing it with the same grim determination he faced other inconvenient facts of life with. Now that he’d come to the conclusion, he knew he wouldn’t be able to make peace with himself unless he faced it.

He tried mentally constructing a speech. “Charles,” he started, talking only to the trees. “We haven’t know each other long, obviously, but I have come to see that you’re not who I previously thought you to be.” He shook his head; it sounded too much like he was going to accuse Charles of hiding something from him.

“You remind me of the full moon,” he tried again, and immediately scrapped that. What was he going to say, then- “you’re bright and round and annoying and helpful when I’m trying to see in the dark”?

 _This is useless,_ he thought, leaning against a tree and closing his eyes. He’d never had to orchestrate any kind of confession before. Magda had come to him, and their romance had been a whirlwind that had fizzled out when she’d learned the full of his past, without any time to even think about expressing how they felt. Even now, he wasn’t sure if he could without a doubt say that he was in love with Charles; they’d only known each other for a few days. He was _on his way_ to being in love, and unwilling to let it go without at least crying, but he wasn’t about to make a declaration he wasn’t positive of.

After ten more minutes of thinking, he gave up; if he was going to give a confession, he was going to have to do it on the spot. It would at least be more genuine that way, but leaving Charles reaction to the unknown put him on edge.

He walked back to the camp slowly, taking a deep breath as he reached the clearing again and striding over to Charles. He found him in the same place he left him, but this time with Pietro at his side, both of them obviously deep in conversation with their backs turned to the rest of the clearing. “So that’s it?” Pietro looked somewhere between concerned and afraid.

“He can’t know.” Charles said, hushed, but not quiet enough that Erik couldn’t hear him. “Pietro, _please,_ he can’t know.”

“It doesn’t--” Pietro began to say something, but Charles cut him off.

“It does.” he said. “Who would ever love that kind of monster?”

Erik’s blood ran cold. A monster. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard the words, but it was the first time since his childhood that they actually hurt. Charles thought he was a monster, just as Magda had, and just had so many had before that. He was silent for a long moment, pulling himself back together. He’d almost just made a fool of himself for nothing, and he was suddenly glad he’d stalled for so long. If that was what Charles thought of him, then it was just as well he’d stayed silent; if he could fall in love with him, he could just as easily fall out of it.

“If you two are done,” he said coldly, making the pair jump. “Go to sleep. We have a long walk tomorrow.”

“Erik,” Charles said, sounding somewhat distressed. “I--”

“Go to _sleep,_ Charles.” he repeated with none of the warmth the words had held the night before. He moved to the opposite side of the fire and laid down, turning his back to the group. What a fucking fool he’d been. _Never again,_ he promised himself as he listened to the sounds of Pietro and Charles shifting. _Once I get home, never again._ This would be the last time he let a human man a fool of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyy this was a short one essentially made to ~ruin the vibe~ because it's gotta get worse before it gets better in every fairy tale. <3 (bonus: chapter seven is 3/4 of the way done sooooooo you might! might! get this cleaned up soon. might.)


	7. morning person (reprise) / build a wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> do i love him? last night, i was uncertain  
> -  
> gonna build me a wall, a perfect place to hide

* * *

 

_vii. morning person (reprise) / build a wall_

_my fairy tale i know so well_  
must have gone awry  
looks can be deceiving   
but feelings never lie   


*

 _what a fool to think he might have loved me_  
i opened my heart and let him walk through   
he wanted prince charming, i wanted my home back   
how lucky both our wishes came true

* * *

 

Charles didn’t sleep that night, and the reason had nothing to do with the cold ground at his back or the dark cloud of emotions coming at him from Erik. He hadn’t been able to get a full read on what was going through his mind before he’d fallen asleep, but he knew for sure it had something to do with his confession.

By the time the sun was rising on the horizon, Charles’ eyes were slipping shut, but he still wasn’t sleeping. The only way he could consider fixing this was to tell Erik- which is what he wanted to avoid in telling Pietro- but, he was more willing to bite that bullet to fix his chances.

He was the first to rise, but he waited until Pietro had moved ahead of him and sent him a meaningful look to catch up to Erik. “I think I have some explaining to do.” he said, and Erik snorted.

“Oh, you don’t, really.” he said, voice barely above a growl, anger rolling off of him in waves and pushing into Charles’ mind. “I heard enough.”

Charles froze for a moment, but he recovered. “What did you hear?”

“Enough.” Erik repeated, not bothering to face him. “Enough to know that I shouldn’t have bothered with you.”

Charles wasn’t sure how much of the anger that filled him was his own and how much was leaking over from Erik, but he was seeing red all of a sudden. “I should have known the same.” he said. “May I remind you _Erik,_ you don’t know me, you don’t know--”

“ _I_ don’t know?” Erik said, giving a bitter laugh. “You don’t know _me_ , your majesty, but I know your type; you smile and sympathize, but you know _nothing_ of what people like me face. You think us monsters, but really, you should be looking in the mirror for your demons rather than in the dark.”

The red faded, and Charles blinked. “I never--”

“Don’t lie to me!” Erik hissed, finally facing him. Even if Charles couldn’t feel it, he could see there was something more than anger to him now; pain, betrayal, both deeply rooted, and then something different entirely. He couldn’t put a name to it, but he knew it was there, and that it was something. “I _heard_ , Charles, don’t _lie_ \- you’re better than that, if nothing else.”

They just looked at one another for a long moment, reading in each other’s faces what they couldn’t find words to say in the moment before Erik turned away, something in his jaw twitching. “Pietro,” he called, and the young man, who’d stopped a few paces ahead of them, furrowed his brow. “Take him to Stryker. I’m going home.”

“Erik, please,” Charles began, fight entirely gone now. “Just let me _explain_.”

“I don’t want your explanation.” Erik said. The fight was gone from him too, his shoulders slumped as he turned fully away from Charles. “I’m done letting humans make fools of me- Stryker, Shaw, you. No more.”

Charles said nothing, and Erik only waited a moment before he started walking again, in a different direction than they were going. He didn’t move as he watched him disappear between trees, and he didn’t know he was shaking until Pietro put his hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go, your highness.” he said, sounding sympathetic. “He’s… he’ll come around, someday.”

“Tell him.” Charles choked out. “After- after you leave me to Stryker. Tell him, so he knows I don’t think that of him.” Even if hearing it second hand made Erik hate him more, he’d at least have the knowledge. Pietro nodded and moved behind him, putting a hand on his neck and taking a deep breath.

“Close your eyes.” he said, and Charles did. The wind whipped past them for what felt like seconds, and then, they were at the gates of a castle.

“This is it.” Pietro said, not sounding out of breath, but looking exhausted from something other than the running. “I’m gonna catch up with your real prince charming-- he’ll turn around for you, I promise.”

“You don’t have to promise me anything.” Charles said. Promises had been broken far too many times for him to trust them anymore. “Just tell him.”

“You got it, your highness.” Pietro said, and he was gone in a flash of silver. Charles smiled at the afterimage for a moment before taking a deep breath and starting towards the gate.

“Who goes there?” called out a guard.

“Prince Charles Francis Xavier of Genosha.” he called back, voice full of bravado he didn’t truly feel. “Here for Lord Stryker.”

After only a beat, the gate began to open. Charles took another breath. When he’d thought about this when he was still in the tower, he thought that this part would feel like homecoming. Instead, if felt more like he was walking into his tomb.

* * *

 

Erik was almost home when he felt a breeze whip past him, and Pietro appeared.

“You’re a dick.” he said without preamble. Erik just rolled his eyes.

“I suppose you’d like me to apologize for offending his delicate baseline sensibilities?” he drawled, and then laughed. “I have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Except for the fact that you never actually let him tell you what he was talking about.” Pietro said. Instead of falling into step alongside Erik, he’d taken to walking backwards in front of him, so that Erik couldn’t ignore him.

“What is there to be explained?” Erik asked. “He explained himself pretty well when he called me a monster.”

“He didn’t call you a monster!” Pietro was obviously frustrated. “You have, like, half an ear man, swear to god. He was talking about _himself._ ”

Erik’s brow furrowed. “Why would he call _himself_ a monster?” Other than the obvious, Charles hadn’t done anything even remotely worthy of the name, to his knowledge. “Is is something to do with that curse business?” He hadn’t considered Charles’ curse since he’d first gone to get him; it obviously wasn’t anything superficial, so he assumed it was either invisible or just an embellishment on the tale.

“It’s not a curse.” Pietro said. The sudden smugness in his tone made Erik wary, and his eyes bugged when he finished the statement. “It’s a mutation.”

“Charles is a _mutant_?” he spluttered, his walk stuttering. “But, he never--”

“Dude, do _you_ introduce yourself with your mutation, for all the shit we get?” Pietro huffed. “He was scared; he’d been locked in a tower for it, so who’s to say that we wouldn’t have just sent him back.”

“ _We’re_ mutants.” Erik said. “Of course we wouldn’t have; we would have known better than anyone else that he wasn’t dangerous.”

“He is, though.” Pietro said, and then amended himself at Erik’s glare. “Well, not like ‘he’s gonna kill us all’ dangerous. He’s just powerful, and he doesn’t really know how to control himself, which could be kinda, like, really bad for the people around him.”

Erik’s brow furrowed. “What can he do, that it could possibly be that bad?”

“He’s a telepath.” Pietro said. “Like, a _really strong_ telepath, from what he told me; he can hear thoughts and feel other people’s emotions and can’t block them really well, which is bad enough on it’s own, but he also used to have a problem with pushing his thoughts onto other people, when he was younger and still around them.”

“He controlled them.” Erik said, doing his best to keep his tone neutral. A large part of him was yelling _idiot!_ for reacting the way he did, but the part of him- the part that always told him to push people out- was using this as ammunition. If Charles was _dangerous,_ if Charles was _controlling_ him, pushing his feelings onto him, maybe Erik didn’t have feelings for him after all. It would, after all, just have been pushing his Prince Charming ideals onto him and planting the feelings in his mind.

Pietro nodded. “And, he was afraid that he would end up doing the same to you, if he let himself act on the massive- and _super obvious,_ by the way- crush you two seem to have on each other.”

For a second time, Erik was floored. “He—”

“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘really likes me?’, I’m going to scream.” Pietro groaned. “ _Dude_ , I am _not_ the one supposed to be giving the relationship advice in this family. _Yes_ , he likes you, and yes, he said what he said because he was afraid of hurting you. Do you feel like an ass now? Because you should.”

“Shut up.” Erik snapped, first, and then flinched, ashamed. “I do.” he admitted. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Go after him!” Pietro was obviously exasperated now. head thrown back as if he were telling the sky ‘do you see this?’

Erik snorted. “Why would he want me to, after what I did?”

“Because _he’s in love with you_!” Pietro looked half a second from throttling him. “So, _turn around_.”

“I can’t just storm into Stryker’s castle and make some grand declaration and expect to get out with Charles and I both alive.” Erik huffed. “He has an army.”

“You could have an army.” Pietro said and Erik laughed.

“I hate to tell you, but I’m not living out in the woods because I’m secretly the heir to a throne.” he said.

”No,” Pietro said. “But, you _do_ have, like, a hundred displaced mutants on your lawn who are one hundred percent down for a coup.”

Erik paused, blinking. “You---”

”Have wonderful ideas all the time, yes, you’re welcome.” Pietro said, moving behind him now and pushing him forward. “Now, hold still.”

”Pietro, I really don’t---” Erik began, but it was too late. Pietro was already pushing forward, picking up speed.

 _Well,_ he thought, closing his eyes and resigning himself to another quest. _So much for living quietly._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:) Two chapters left.


	8. freak flag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> let your freak flag wave  
> let your freak flag fly  
> never let it down, never let it down  
> wave it way up high!

* * *

_viii. freak flag_

_we’ve spent our whole life wishing_  
we weren’t so freaking strange  
they made us feel that way  
but it’s they who need to change

 _it’s time to stop the hiding_  
it’s time to stand up tall  
say “hey world, i’m different!  
here i am!”

* * *

 

Erik was bombarded the moment they were over the hill leading to his house. There was an initial cry of “he’s back!” from someone in the crowd, somewhere, and then it was like the ocean personified had decided to converge upon him, chattering in unison.

“What did he say?”

“Took you long enough!”

“Mommy said when you come back, we would go home-- can we go home?”

He couldn’t make out much of the rest, all of the voices roaring in his ears. Distantly, he realized that this must have been something like Charles had had to deal with, when his powers had just manifested, and he felt a pang of empathy, and a second of guilt.

There was a sudden screech, and the crowd fell silent, many holding their ears or looking accusingly at a red headed boy who was standing on the stump of a felled tree. He looked unapologetic when he dismounted, and gestured for the crowd to part. “Let ‘em through.” he said, and somewhat reluctantly, they did. Erik and Pietro shuffled to the front unobstructed, where the two blue mutants from before- Raven and Hank, Erik remembered, were waiting for them.

“Have a nice trip?” Raven asked.

“Yes and no.” Erik said enigmatically.

“Give us the yes, then the no.” Hank said. Erik snorted.

“They’re much the same. Stryker made a deal with me--” This was met with a somewhat feral growl from Hank.

“A _deal_ with him doesn’t mean much.” he huffed. Erik bristled.

“I’m not an idiot,” he snapped. “I know very well what it means, _if you’d let me finish._ Anyway, I was to do him a favor, and he’d give me my land back.”

“And he said nothing about us?” Raven asked. Erik shook his head, and Hank bared his teeth again.

“I told you, didn’t I?” he said to her, turning away from Erik entirely. “He’d serve his purpose and leave us in the lurch.”

Erik had had enough. “ _I’m not fucking finished yet._ ” he snarled. The legs of Hank’s eyeglasses warped momentarily before he got himself under control, and they straightened as the continued his story. “ _So_ , I went and did what he asked-- there was a Prince being held in a tower--”

“Charles?” Raven sounded breathless, eyes going wide. “You rescued Charles?”

Erik blinked. “You know him?”

“He’s my brother!” she cried, and then amended herself, quieter. “Step-brother, sort of. My mother married into the Marko line, and then died, and Lord Marko married Queen Sharon, and…” She waved her hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. I abdicated and ran away as soon as I was able, after Charles was sent away. But, you got him out?”

“Yes,” Erik said, voice gentler now that it may have ever been. “I did. I didn’t know that he was… like us, so I let him go to marry Stryker.”

“You _what_?” Raven’s fury was somewhat more terrifying than Hank’s, her amber eyes blazing like small hellfires.

“I _didn’t know_!” Erik said defensively. “I know Stryker has no intention of either honoring his promise to me or giving you back your lands, and I _know_ he’s going to hurt Charles the moment he has an inkling of what he is, or how powerful he is, so we need to move quickly.”

“Move to what?” Hank asked, confused.

“Move to fight.” Erik replied. Hank laughed.

“You’re kidding. Us, against an army? We’re not that organized, and none of us are ready for that kind of battle.”

“Even ten of us are more powerful than all of Stryker’s army combined.” Erik argued. “We have power they could never think of possessing. Not everyone has to fight; only a few people need to volunteer, and we could make it to the castle before the wedding--”

“Wouldn’t it be better to wait until after?” Raven asked. She didn’t shut down the idea like her friend had, which endeared her even more to Erik. She obviously wanted Charles safe as much as he did. “The guard would be doubled at the wedding, to keep out crashers and the like.”

“It needs to be before.” Erik said gravely. “I-- It just does.”

Raven studied him for a moment and, suddenly and unbidden, her face lit up with a mischievous grin. “‘And so, a hero would rescue him from his tower and bestow upon him true love’s kiss.’ It only took you, what, a week to fall in love with him, didn’t it?”

“I’m not--” Erik began, and then realized that, at this point, there was no use in denying the fact. “Three days.” he admitted.

“He had that effect on people, even when he was young.” Raven’s eyes got distant, as if she was remembering a memory from a long time ago. She shook herself out of it a few moments later. “Alright. Before the wedding-- it’ll probably be in a few days itself; Stryker would want to cement his kingship as soon as possible, but the affair would be as big as he could manage.” She pushed past Erik and Pietro, mounting the trunk that the red headed boy had been standing on before.

“We are taking our homes back!” she cried, and a hush fell over the group, only a few gasps and murmurs to be heard. She turned back to Erik briefly. “You said we would only need ten?”

“Including you and I,” he said.

“And me.” Pietro cut in. Erik’s eyes narrowed.

“No.”

“Yes,” Pietro said, jaw set in a defiant line. “Sorry, _dad,_ but you totally missed the part of my life where you’d get to boss me around. _And me._ ”

Erik flinched slightly, and frowned. “And him--”

“And me.” Hank sighed. “If we’re doing this, I’m going.”

Raven nodded. “Us four, then. Only six more.” She turned back to the crowd. “We need six willing to help us fight- those with children, those with families, you have no obligation to fight. As mutants, we are all each other’s family, and will fight for each brother and sister in their stead.”

“I ain’t got nothing better to do.” The redheaded boy from before spoke up, his voice carrying over the group. He pushed through, grinning a crooked grin and bowing deeply. “Sean Cassidy, at your service.”

“Guess I’m not getting your house after all.” Erik’s head snapped to the blond boy who had spoken to him before he left. He was still flanked by his dark-skinned friend and the short, brown haired boy with glasses. “But, I’d rather get mine back any day. Alex Summers-- my brother and I were in training to be knights, back home.”

“Scott. We were.” the brown haired boy spoke, shrugging.

“Call me Darwin.” the dark skinned man spoke, smiling easily and placidly. “I haven’t done much fighting, but now’s a good a time to start as any.”

“I always hated Stryker, anyway.” A young woman pushed through the crowd, dark haired with eyes to match. She sized Erik up for a moment before nodding. “Angel Salvadore.”

“Ororo Munroe.” another voice called, drifting from somewhere above the crowd. A woman with stark white hair landed just in front of Erik, smiling. “I used to know Charles, when he was a child-- used to play with him, when my family was visiting from Wakanda as dignitaries. I’ll gladly fight for him, as well as for our other mutant brothers and sisters.”

“That’s ten, then.” Raven huffed, leaping from the stump. “Right. The sooner we set out, the better, unless any of you have objections?”

“Not a one.” Pietro drawled easily, and everyone else nodded. The group began to push through the crowd, all of them parting without coercion this time, and slowly, everyone began cheering. It roared in Erik’s ears even louder than the calls before, and it struck him oddly. Never before had he been lauded as something- some _one_ good by so many. It felt… nice.

“I hope you’re not walking us into a massacre.” Hank said lowly in his ear as they got out of the crowd and over the hill, ruining Erik’s warm mood entirely.

“I hope so, too.” was the best he could offer in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left!!! This chapter was one of my faves so far; I love writing the X-Family.


	9. more to the story / big bright beautiful world (reprise) / finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm not the handsome prince for whom you've waited...

* * *

_ix. more to the story / big bright beautiful world (reprise) / finale_

_i got my happy ending_  
_in a fairy tale, the knot must get tied_  
_this is what i dreamed_  
_finally it’s real_  
_i thought what i might look like_  
_but i never thought how i might feel..._

_*_

_it’s a big, bright beautiful world_  
_with possibilities everywhere_  
_if true love is blind_  
_perhaps you won’t mind the view…_

_*_

_i waited all my life_  
_lived it by the book_  
_now i know that’s not my story_  
_you take me as i am_  
_love me how i look_  
_standing here in all my glory…_

* * *

 

In the three days Charles had been with Stryker prior to their wedding, he had learned three things. First was something not entirely new to him, just confirmed from what Erik had had to say of him: he was absolutely _awful_ , vindictive and tyrannical to the smallest detail of his kingdom. Second was that he at least wouldn’t be subjected to lechery; Stryker barely paid him any mind when he didn’t have to, and certainly didn’t expect Charles in his bed at night. Finally, it had been immediately clear that he had no room to slip where his powers were concerned. Hearing how Stryker spoke of mutants was chilling and blood-curdling; if he had any clue as the to true nature of Charles’ “curse”, he wouldn’t hesitate to have him done away with the second he had a crown on his head.

As Charles stood in front of the floor length mirror that had been positioned in his room earlier this morning, he didn’t feel any of the joy that he’d dreamed of feeling on his wedding day back when that had been all he really had to plan for. He felt like his blood had turned to ice water, drowning all but the whispers in his head he couldn’t quite keep out and making him shiver periodically. This was his duty, he reminded himself. He had to do this; for his kingdom, for himself, for all the other mutants who were scared and unsafe-- _and for Erik,_ the deepest part of his mind added, almost hissing. _And for Erik_ , because no matter how much he’d like to, he couldn’t quite forget the way he spoke or the twitch of a smile he’d had at his spout of bounciness when he had just gotten out of the tower.

“Your highness?” He was snapped from his thoughts by the meek voice of a servant girl at the door. He could feel her distant concern and wariness seeping into his mind and did his best to keep his own mind from moving to meet the feeling. “The ceremony is about to begin.”

“Yes, of course.” he said, giving a meek smile of his own and smoothing the white of his tunic down for a final time. “Lead the way.”

The girl nodded quickly, and they moved out of the room and down the hallway in silence except for the scuffling of feet and, for Charles, the growing closeness of roaring minds. There were a lot of people present, then- as there would be. The Crown Prince of Genosha was returning; it was supposed to be a joyous affair for the whole land. _Except for the prince himself,_ Charles thought without humor. They stopped at a set of oak doors and the girl bowed quickly before scuttling away, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts and those of the gathered dignitaries and royals awaiting his entrance. He couldn’t really make out clear thoughts in the crowd, only feelings and glimpses of his name or Stryker’s. There was excitement, a thin layer of boredom, and then- distantly, far away but growing closer- anger, fear, exhilaration. He frowned at that but pushed it aside as the distant hum of an organ began and the doors started opening. He took a deep breath, and walked down the aisle.

_For everyone. For Erik. For everyone, for Erik…_

* * *

 

The wedding had already begun by the time they all made their way into the castle. Their entrance involved a lot of Erik picking locks and knocking men out with their own swords, blood pounding in his ears louder and louder the closer they got to the main throne room. There was the murmur of people that was evident enough, and the ominous drifting of an organ that might have been somewhat romantic if not for the circumstances.

“It’s already started!” he called back to Raven, who was keeping pace with him quite admirably.

“We’ll get there in time.” she assured him, but he was sure she wasn’t so confident of the fact. It had taken them days to get there, since Pietro couldn’t run them all to the castle at the same time, and they had both spent the entire time worrying that they’d be too late to stop anything or save Charles.

There was a tall set of oak doors at the end of the hallway, the thrum of people barely contained behind it; Erik didn’t wait before they were upon them to throw them open, storming in just as the balding priest in the front said: “-- speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

There was a gasp as they entered, heads swivelling and guards standing stunned but poised to attack. “Wow,” Pietro drawled, whistling. “Couldn’t have timed that better if we’d tried. Good job, man.”

“What the _hell,_ ” Stryker hissed, decorum and location apparently forgotten. He was standing at the altar, dressed all in red, which did him no favors. Charles was beside him, dressed in white white- which suited him much better- eyes wide. “Are you doing here, _mutant?_ ”

“I obviously didn’t come to wish you well.” Erik snarled back, the same time he felt a push in the back of his mind. _I came back for you,_ he thought, and he could see Charles’ eyes widen as he processed the though. _I’m sorry I wasn’t quicker._

 _He’ll kill you._ Charles’ face betrayed no emotion other than surprise, but there was obvious distress in the words he pushed back. _Erik, please, there are bigger things at play here. I can save you, save everyone---_

 _You won’t have to._ Erik pushed back, expression turning soft for a split second before hardening again as his attention turned back to Stryker. “They want their land back,” he said, gesturing behind him to Raven and the rest of the mutants. “And I believe Charles could do quite a bit better than you, too, so I figured we could kill two birds with one stone.”

“They have no land.” Stryker spat, entirely ignoring the second part of the statement, which Erik had figured was the usual. “This land- this kingdom is mine, and you monsters have no place in it.”

“We were here long before you,” Raven bit out, stepping forward. Charles looked like his eyes were about to bug out of his head when he saw her, and there was a quick smile on Raven’s face when he most likely greeted her. “And, we’ll be here long after your reign is over. Mutants aren’t going anywhere, Stryker, and there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

Stryker smiled a slow, sick grin. “Can’t I?” he said. “Once I’m king, it will make it all that much easier to round up you and your kind and do away with you. However…” His grin got impossibly wider, more sharklike. “Why wait? Kill them!” he hissed to his guards, and it was like they’d been held immobile the whole time, waiting for the call. Dozens of men were suddenly upon them, and Erik could barely hear a cry of his name above the din before the fighting began.

It would have lasted for hours or seconds for how it felt, men dropping one by one with a flick of his fingers. He felt the same kick of adrenaline killing Shaw had given him, but more urgent; the person he was fighting for now was still alive, still in danger. He reached out for the metal in the room, crushing helmets and melting swords, until he heard a loud cry, his focus dropping abruptly. Near the front of the room, Stryker had drawn his sword, and now held it at Raven’s throat. “I’ll start, I think,” he spat. “With you.”

_Stop._

At first, Erik had thought Charles had spoken aloud, but his mouth hadn’t moved. It was set in a concentrated line, tips of his fingers planted to his forehead and a fire blazing behind his eyes.

Drop your weapons.

“Charles…” Raven bit out, even as Stryker pulled his sword from her throat and dropped it, looking dazed.

“You’re…” he said, and then shook himself out of it, disgust returning tenfold. “You’re one of _them._ ”

“I am.” Charles said, head held high and voice full of bravado Erik knew wasn’t really there. There was a tremor in his hand. _He never thought he’d have to do this._ The wedding party, long forgotten in the rumble, gasped, and murmurs broke out.

“The curse!”

“Burn him! Burn the mutant!”

“How’s he meant to be _king_?”

Charles acted as if he didn’t hear them, but his hand didn’t stop trembling. “Leave them be, Stryker.” he said. “You want the crown- _my_ crown, and quite frankly, you can have it.” Another gasp rose up, and this time, it came from the mutants as well.

“Charles--” Erik began, but he was cut off.

“This is _my_ decision, Erik.” he said. The tremor had stilled, and his courage was no longer borrowed. He looked, in that moment, like the pictures of kings hanging in the castle halls; regal, and like he was meant for it. “Genosha is not ready for a mutant king.”

“Then let them not be ready!” Erik cried, but Charles had turned from him again.

“I will abdicate the throne to you,” he said. “If I have your word that the mutants of the land will remain safe.”

Stryker’s face morphed in a half second, a snakelike grin filling it, the same look he’d given Erik in his eyes. “You freaks do enjoy your deals.” he murmured, and then gave a sweeping bow. “Very well. You have my---”

“Oh, over my _dead and rotting corpse_.” there was a sudden growl from the back of the room, and the crowd began to shrink back as a man stepped forward. Erik’s eyes bugged at the sight of him-- it was the Wolverine. “Chuck, what the hell? I let you out for a week and you go and get involved with this snake in the garbage?”

“ _Logan,_ ” Charles sounded like an embarrassed teen chastising their mother. “What are you _doing_ here?”

“I came to watch you get married-- seriously, I _raised_ your ass, and I don’t get an invite?” Logan huffed. “And then, I saw _him_.”

Stryker, for the first time since Erik had met him, looked truly afraid. “You can’t _be_ here!” he said, almost squeaking. “You-- I--”

“Your father banished me, yada-yada.” The Wolverine- Logan- looked more irritated with the conversation than anything. “This was Howlett land first, Stryker, and Howlett land it will remain. It was high time I came and took it back, anyway.” He smirked, here. “Thanks for keeping the throne warm for me, jackass.”

Stryker was at a loss for words. “You can’t just barge into my domain, and--”

“It won’t be yours for much longer.” Logan cut in. He reached for his belt and threw down a glove. “I challenge you to a duel, Stryker- to the death, winner takes this land.”

Stryker was silent for a long moment. He looked, briefly, like he was going to back out, but one look at the gathered crowd seemed to stop him. “Very well.” he spat, turning to one of his guardsmen that wasn’t laying unconscious on the ground. . “Bring us a pair of swords.”

“Just him.” Logan said, still smirking. “I don’t need one.” There was the same slick slide and chink-ing sound that Erik had heard before, and the claws were once again sliding from Logan’s skin. Stryker looked disgusted, which was no surprise, but Charles’ expression was surprising. He looked dazed, but unworried that his apparent father-figure could be dying very soon.

 _You seem sure of him._ Erik pushed quickly. Charles looked surprised for a moment at the message, but he answered soon enough.

_He can hold his own._

Erik snorted, quirking an eyebrow at him. _He’s going into a sword fight without a sword._

 _You fought him,_ Charles looked like he was going to shrug,the projection of his voice sounding a bit amused. _You know what he’s capable of._

 _I threw him around like a ragdoll and collapsed a wall on top of him._ Erik deadpanned. _So, no, not really._

Charles looked like he was going to laugh out loud. _Well, you will see, then._

 _I don’t know how he even_ survived. Erik huffed back, but the feeling of Charles’ amusement had dampened some of his negativity.

Logan and Stryker were squaring up, the wedding party turning into a circle between them, cheering and booing as if their original purpose had been entirely forgotten with the promise of a duel. The battle itself was short, though; Stryker charged swinging his sword and cut Logan deeply in the side. The mutant, however, didn’t budge as Stryker drew his sword back-- in fact, all he did was snort. Erik and the rest of the crowd- with exception of Charles, who had probably seen it before- gaped as the skin of his side knitted itself back together.

Stryker did an impression of a startled deer, which turned out to be the last thing he’d ever do, as Logan took the moment to slice his claws across his neck, sending blood spraying and Stryker falling to the ground.

There was a long silence where everyone just stared at Stryker’s body as the blood stopped flowing from his neck and his eyes went glassy, and then a cry went up. “Long live Lord Howlett!”

“Long live Lord Howlett!” most of the rest of the crowd intoned, probably out of fear. Charles, however, seeme sincere when he said it.

“Long live, indeed.” he said, stepping forward. “I suppose I didn’t have to give you back your knightship after all; you’ve done much more for yourself.”

“I’m centuries old, princess.” Logan snorted, ruffling the prince’s hair affectionately. “I don’t need a rescue. But,” he turned abruptly, pinning Erik with a glare. “Yours would’a been a bit more gentle.”

“I apologize for not realizing you weren’t dead?” Erik huffed, rolling his eyes. “I had a job to do.”

“And, what about now?” Logan asked. “Is this still your _job_?”

“No,” Erik said, sure of himself and turning towards Charles. “This is something else entirely.” He and Charles just looked at each other for a long moment, searching each other’s gaze.

“My mother hasn’t drunk herself dead yet, so I don’t have any pressing royal duties to attend to for a few more years, at least..” Charles said, which probably wasn’t the most appropriate response, but it made Erik smile nonetheless.

“I suppose I have room for two.” Erik replied. Charles mirrored his smile for only a moment before throwing himself at Erik and kissing him.

True love’s kiss, Erik decided, was just as perfect- and a bit more pornographic- than it had been said to be.

“Dudes,” Pietro cut in, coughing awkwardly. “Like, no offense, mazel tov and everything, but this probably ain’t the best place to consummate your relationship.”

They both flushed. “Of course,” Erik said, clearing his throat. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

 

_And they all lived happily ever after._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished, and right in time for the XM:A trailer. I've got a few ideas in the works, soooo, keep a look out for a new AU, coming soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Nobody wanted this, and yet, here it is
> 
> find me on tumblr @maxneato


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